


Marvel Online

by fluffysocks



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gaming, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-07 12:11:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysocks/pseuds/fluffysocks
Summary: Was this guy actually hitting on him? By having an asthma attack near (at?) him?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished watching E4. This is my emotional support frivolous AU.

Sam was buzzfeeding his way through the aftershocks of his latest nightmare. He was wearing his softest hoodie, had a cup of chamomile by his mouse hand, and the listicles were making sure his nightmare wouldn’t replay over and over in his brain. If he lit a candle, Dr Witmer would probably materialise and praise him for his excellent coping skills!

What he really wanted to do was run until his brain shut off altogether, just taking the world in without processing any of it. But he knew that anyone who went running at 3:14AM had a serious problem, and Sam had professionally attested excellent coping skills, so he was going to wait until 5AM like a healthy person.

He snorted at one of the banner ads popping up alongside the listicle. “10 MMORPGs you won’t believe are still a thing!”

He took a long sip from the chamomile, and stared at the banner ad, evaluating whether he really wanted to take the slip and slide down that part of memory lane. He glanced at the computer clock. 3:18.

Well, it’d help get him closer to an acceptable time to leave the house to run. Plus, he already knew his game wasn’t going to be on the list. The mail when they shut down the servers in 2010 had miraculously made it past his spam filter.

He clicked on the ad and immediately rolled his eyes. Could he bring himself to believe that Ultima Online was still a thing? Sam snorted. He could believe that Ultima Online would survive the heat death of the universe, given the loyalty of its playerbase. He started scrolling through the list - right, what even was a Maple Story? But it was always on these types of lists. 

And then he got to the bottom of the list and he realised it was a paid promo, because he hadn’t anticipated the last entry.

“Marvel Online was shut down for good in 2010, so it’s not really still a thing - but it’s a thing again--” Sam scrolled down. “--relaunched in 2017 on PC and current gen consoles, keeping its famously smooth controls intact while boasting modern graphics updates as well as many quality of life improvements--”

If it hadn’t been 3:22AM Sam probably would have realised it was going to be an advertorial based on the fact that it was in a banner ad. If it hadn’t been 3:22AM, Sam probably wouldn’t have considered actually clicking it.

Anyway, if they relaunched it, they were probably squeezing the old players’ nostalgia for all it was worth with micro transactions.

He opened a new tab and typed in ‘Marvel Online Pay To Win’. But the reddit thread he found - from only a few months ago - debated the topic hotly. There were some speed-ups, but apparently nothing that couldn’t be compensated for with a bit of grinding. Which was more or less the entire point of the game, even if you ever did get hit a high enough level to raid.

Sam wouldn’t mind the mindless distraction of killing skeletons for a few hours when he woke up from nightmares. He was too old to download and play an MMORPG. It was probably no worse for him than Buzzfeed and 

It was 3:32 AM.

He typed in the URL, set the client to download and patch, made a new account, and then went back to Buzzfeed when he realised it was 3:49AM and the client was only at 12%.

* * *

When the sun came up, Sam was feeling his entire body, but especially the lungs. There wasn't anyone else around when he started, but by the time he petered out into a walk, he could see small clusters of joggers.

Meeting up with their friends. 

It always came on like that - suddenly, like the start of a firefight. Sam took a deep breath and forced himself to keep walking at his cooldown pace as the memory washed over him: Riley, running backwards like a jackass because Sam was still slow from his bad thigh. Laughing exactly up until he hit his head on a low hanging branch. 

Sam remembered casting a glance around to make sure they were alone and then pushing Riley down into the grass to kiss him.

“You OK?” 

Sam looked up to find a very greasy white guy, hands in his sweats pockets, looking at him evenly. Sam realised he wasn't walking anymore. He felt clammy, the light breeze cooling his running shirt where it was stuck to his back. Sam's cheeks were heating, and he ducked his head.

“Yeah. Fine.”

“OK then,” and the guy stepped aside like he'd actually be physically capable of blocking Sam on a path that would pass for a whole road in most countries. 

Sam walked past him. Whatever good mood he'd managed with the run was dissipating. He just wanted a day where he could go shopping or running or enjoying the sunshine without the universe kicking him. 

When he turned the corner, he saw greasy guy wasn't even looking after him, but had turned around to talk to a girl in an offensively neon yellow track suit. Greasy probably wouldn't even remember the weird guy who'd been spacing out in a few hours, while the whole thing replayed in Sam's brain like an unfunny running joke in a sitcom. 

Sam went home for a shower and breakfast, and then out again to do his shopping for the week. He even did his therapy homework: a snack (a bag of mini muffins from the bakery) that wasn't on his meal plan. Something perishable so he'd actually eat it instead of stuffing it in the back of the pantry and sticking with the plan.

* * *

Between school, work and pretending to be a normal healthy adult, Sam forgot about his decision to install MO until the weekend. It was easier during the week, keeping busy. But now it was the weekend. Sam had done all his homework, housework and self care, and his social calendar was a gaping hole until his Tuesday shift at the sanctuary.

Which maybe didn’t entirely count as social engagement, even though the birds were happy to join the conversation.

Playing was probably no worse for him than binging another nature documentary series on Netflix. Plus, he kind of wanted to see what the Earth Elf falcon companion would look like with the new graphics.

Sam booted up the client, and immediately had to shut it down again to reset his password. 

Sam ambled off to get himself some cereal, and when he came back he settled in with the character creation. It had sliders now. It only took him about an hour of playing around with them to make an elf that didn’t look like he lived in the uncanny valley. His cheekbones weren't even that terrible in comparison to Sam's. 

He’d had ‘Falcon’ back when he was playing between deployments, but Marvel Online hadn’t exactly been a wide release title back then. It wasn’t a surprise that the name was gone now, months and months after the relaunch. He did, after some trial and error, find a server with PvE rules where “TheFalconMan” was still free.

As much as he had enjoyed the gank-and-be-ganked of an open PvP server before, he thought that subjecting himself to unpredictable adrenaline jolts was maybe no longer the best lifestyle choice for him. At least for the time being.

By the time he was ready to log into the game proper, it was also already light out - later than his usual time to run. Hell, maybe he could actually see how the mall looked in daylight.

* * *

The mall was much, much fuller in daylight - and also not as chilly, so Sam was sweating even worse than just the run warranted. It was exactly what he needed in his life: lots of people watching him dissolve into some kind of antitranspirant commercial. He was kind of glad he’d brought a hat, but what he was really wanted right then was music to stop hearing everyone else.

If only he could be in a crowd without being able to hear what was going on behind him.

“On your right” someone shouted from behind him, and then power-walked past Sam for the next two minutes because they were basically going the same speed. Sam avoided looking. If he wanted to feel socially awkward, he could go to group.

Sam actually slowed down until he could pick a different path just to escape the situation. It took him half a mile to get back to his usual blankness. Maybe he should give 3AM runs a shot after all. It would definitely stop him having to interact with all these people, most of which turned out to be some type of asshole.

Take: The rapid footfall approaching from behind him, accompanied by the loudest asthmatic whistling Sam had ever heard. Part of Sam wanted to speed up and run away from the entire situation, but he also knew that he didn’t want to deal with the emotional fallout of leaving someone in distress behind. Even though really they shouldn’t be getting him involved in the first place.

And then a tiny person, with utterly ridiculous form, shot past him, wheezing a muffled “on your left” in his general direction, and Sam actually had to run to catch up to the guy. He was skinny as hell, with scoliosis Sam could clearly see through his somehow too-small tee shirt. 

Which read “thanks for asking”

How was he so fast when his legs were that short?

Sam was out of breath by the time he reached the guy, who had sat down on the nearest bench. Properly upright for his airways, his face mask dangling off one of his ears and his rescue inhaler already in his mouth. The front of his shirt read “I could do this all day”.

The little shit was splotchy red, and grinning.

Sam stared at him. He had a long time to actually come up with something to say while the guy went through his asthma treatment quite responsibly like he hadn’t just given himself a completely unnecessary attack fully on purpose. And he couldn’t.

“Sorry to worry you,” the guy said when he could talk again. He was still a little wheezy, but he looked happy as a clam, so Sam could only assume his shirt was actually a custom-made precaution for exactly this scenario.

Short guy tucked his rescue inhaler back into his fanny pack after the third inhale, and stuck out his hand at Sam. “Steve Rogers. Nice to meet someone else here who can run.”

Sam felt his eyebrows go for the stratosphere, but he took the guy’s hand on autopilot. The little guy levered himself up, which put him at about chest level with Sam. He had big hands for his size.

“Sam Wilson,” Sam said. “And I’m not sure it’s running if it ends in a medical emergency.”

Steve laughed, much more loudly than was probably warranted, and devolved into more wheezing. A couple with a stroller stared at them. Oh good. Sam could mentally hear Greasy tell Neon all about how he saw the same weird guy again, this time with a different weird guy. Not that he could see either of them anywhere nearby. Still: Just the thought he needed.

“I usually prepare if I know I’m going to be chasing someone.” Steve said. He was grinning, one hand on his hip and one hand shadowing his eyes so he could look at Sam.

Sam felt his face do a thing, and did his level best to get it under control. Was this guy actually hitting on him? By having an asthma attack near (at?) him?

“Is that how it is,” he said. 

“That’s how it is,” Steve confirmed, still grinning. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Yeah, I’m usually here earlier than this.” It felt like admitting something, but it was surprisingly easy to say. Sam was pretty sure whatever else Steve had going on in his life, he was not an adult who had his entire life together and judged people who couldn’t sleep through the night. What with him having just given himself an asthma attack trying to impress a stranger.

“Right. I always start by Federal Triangle.” Steve actually winked. He was very, very bad at winking. “If you ever want to join me for a run - I usually start the full hour after daybreak, Wednesdays and Saturdays.” And then he hooked his face mask back on, reset the seal, and jogged off like nothing had happened.

Sam stared after him, and then decided he was just about ready for his cooldown walk. He was halfway through his orange juice at breakfast when he realised Steve must have done most of a 5k already before he started chasing Sam. And also that he apparently had a date.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam groaned and sat up. The images were already fading, just the sense of falling still lingering. He felt clammy, and he could feel his heart going.

 

He groped for his phone, switched it on and went on insta. Scrolled through until he found their most recent selfie. It was kind of hard to work out the angles going on. Probably Maria was leaning over Carol’s shoulder from behind.

 

Either way, the light was soft, Carol had hair, and she and Maria had their cheeks pressed together. Maria was smiling, and Carol was obviously trying to look at her out of the corner of her eye. She looked ridiculous. The caption just said: “She married me.” Sam snorted. Definitely posted by Carol, then.

 

He got up and went into the kitchen - probably about time to admit he wasn’t getting back to sleep anyway. He went about making himself some tea. He swiped over into his mail before he could consider it too deeply. He missed them, and they were only a few taps away.

 

> from: samwilson78@gmail.com
> 
> to: maria.rambeau@rambeau-survey.com
> 
> subject: I’m back
> 
> Hey Maria,
> 
> I actually resubbed to MO. Can’t imagine I’m going to play much, but I thought you and Carol might get a kick out of hearing.
> 
> Hope you guys are all doing well.
> 
> \- Sam

 

He squinted at the time. 4:52 AM. Googled: “sunrise dc today”. Yeah, he could kill an hour in game.

 

Sam grabbed his tea, went back to his bedroom, and put it down on his desk, and booted up his computer. While he waited for that, he stripped his bed and tossed his pjs and the covers into the hamper. He would do the laundry after he got home that evening, so he could climb into his toasty warm bed.

 

He logged on and amused himself trying out all of TheFalconMan’s new emotes. They’d added a facepalm on /judge, which Sam immediately made a shortcut for. If he was really going to heal, he was going to need it.

 

But first, it was time to kill some game rats.

 

By the time he needed to leave, the house sparrows had started up their morning concerto, and TheFalconMan was level 3.

  


Sam spotted Steve easily enough as he was coming up the escalator at the station. Steve was standing in the shadow of one of the exit arches, obviously dressed for running. He was talking, with both hands, to a redhead in a suit. She was standing with her back to Sam. She might have been around Steve’s height, if she hadn’t been wearing those heels.

 

Sam hung back a little. He didn’t want to wind up eavesdropping, or interrupting the conversation. It wasn’t long before the woman leaned in to hug Steve - apparently tightly enough to actually lift him onto the balls of his feet - and disappeared out into the plaza after giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

 

Steve looked after her for a moment, and then turned to scan the crowd in the station - he waved when he spotted Sam. He looked a little uneasy for a moment, but broke into a grin when Sam started walking towards him.

 

Sam grinned back, almost automatically.

 

“So are we going to do this for more than a hundred yards today?” Sam asked, when he was in earshot.

 

Steve’s grin sharpened. “I’ve got time. We can go as long as you like.” There was that terrible wink again. Sam kind of liked it, even if he really couldn’t tell if Steve was bad at joking or bad at flirting.

 

Sam seized him up. He was pretty sure Steve was more for long distance than burst speed. Sam himself didn’t have a class until twelve, and honestly - after the night he’d had? He could probably really use pushing himself a little.

 

“Around the tidal basin,” Sam decided. And then, before he even considered whether he really should be saying it to a virtual stranger: “Long as I don’t have to carry you on the way back.”

 

Steve cackled, and then patted his fanny pack - with the inhaler, right. “You too though - you might be a bit big for me to lift.” And, yep, that was definitely an appreciative look at Sam’s forearms where he’d rolled up his sweatshirt sleeves.

 

They walked the short distance to the start of their route in companionable silence, and once they were there Steve took a moment to use his inhaler and pull up his face mask. Steve was looking down the path already, like he was deciding how to weave through the smattering of slower runners and early tourists.

 

Then he looked at Sam, raised his eyebrows, and turned to dart off.

 

“Hey!” Sam called, but his feet were already moving. Steve didn’t sprint all out the way he had on the weekend, just took a very ambitious pace for the distance they were going, keeping a generous distance between himself and anyone else.

 

Sam overtook him by the Washington Monument, and Steve got him back when they turned around the end of the reflecting pool.

 

By the time they crossed back over the Tidal Basin, Steve’s shirt was sweat-dark around the collar, and Sam’s mind was entirely empty apart from occasionally huffing out an “on your left” - or a protest - as they overtook each other.

 

Sam was basically jelly, floating somewhere above himself, when they finally collapsed into the grass under some trees back near the Federal Triangle. But he was grinning. He did not push himself like that - and apparently Steve didn’t either, because he’d developed a very slight wheeze over the last half mile despite the medication.

 

He looked happy though. And Sam actually felt all right. He could still remember the cold dread when he’d woken up, but in the sunshine with his whole body humming, it seemed far enough away to ignore for a while. He snickered to himself. He’d finally managed to outrun his inner demons.

 

Steve elbowed him a little, and Sam let his head roll along the tree trunk so he could look at him. “What’s funny?” Steve asked.

 

“Oh, nothing.” Sam grinned at him. “Just haven’t run that hard in years.”

 

Steve laughed a little, and Sam could hear the slight whistle on the end of it - but Steve didn’t seem concerned. And after that run, Sam was pretty sure Steve must have his breathing situation well in hand. “Me either. Will you be here on Saturday?”

 

“Nah, I’ve got a shift. Next week Wednesday is good though.”

 

Steve grinned and got to his feet. He looked down at himself for a moment to find a piece of dry running gear real estate, and then wiped his hand off. Stuck it out to Sam, like he was going to pull him up. Sam looked up at him, a little disbelieving, but he reached for Steve’s wrist. Apparently, even a small guy could pull someone Sam’s size up by throwing his entire weight behind it and then pulling himself back upright by his hold on Sam.

 

“Next week Wednesday!” Steve reminded him. He was walking backwards as he said it, and Sam felt the memory rise again - but Steve wasn’t like Riley. He was maybe half his size and at least twice as much of a little shit.

  
“No backing out, Rogers!” Sam called after him, and Steve saluted him - wrong -  before he turned to make for the station.

  


Sam cuddled up in his fresh-from-the-dryer sheets. His entire body was aching just right - he could actually imagine soaking in a bath until he pruned up, but he’d already taken a shower after he came home in the morning.

 

He had gotten through class all right, and taken care of the laundry and homework when he got back. He reached for his phone, and swiped through the notifications. Until he saw he had a reply from Maria - with an attachment.

 

> from: maria.rambeau@rambeau-survey.com
> 
> to: samwilson78@gmail.com
> 
> subject: re: I’m back
> 
>  
> 
> Hey Sam,
> 
>  
> 
> Carol and Monica say hi.
> 
>  
> 
> We thought you quit for good! We’re on Triskelion with a nice league - if you want to join, send a whisper. :)
> 
>  
> 
> Maria

 

The attachment was a screenshot - <AI>PhotonFlight and <AI>CaptainMarveII standing by some kind of ominous looking throne - Sam couldn’t always tell what was where with the graphics difference, but he was pretty sure he didn’t know this particular map.

 

What he did know was that Carol was apparently still running her weird build from way back when, because CaptainMarveII actually had an arcane focus visibly equipped in the picture. Along with some snazzy new robes - blue and red and gold.

 

Maria he was less sure about - Sam was pretty sure he recognised the armour from some character design artwork, but he couldn’t tell by whatever bow and knives she had equipped how she’d actually skilled the character. Which was, in its own way, just as familiar as Carol’s stubborn refusal to redistribute skill points. You never knew what Maria was going to pull out of her hat.

 

Then he realised he’d made his character on a different server - Triskelion was one of the PvP enabled ones. And he hadn’t thought to screenshot his sliders. He groaned.

 

Well, at least he knew what he was doing next time he couldn’t sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> this was very nearly called do you want to date my avatar
> 
> If anyone wants to be my beta - ESPECIALLY with making sure everyone sounds American and/or sensitivity reading because I learned my English in MMOs and it is thus a mess, I'd be eternally grateful.


End file.
